One of the most complex parts of human interactions that we all have to independently learn to navigate is the politics and etiquette of farting. We all do it — yes, even you — but everyone, eventually, comes to their own conclusions as to how, when and why they let the bum gas fly.

I grew up in a household where farting was considered very amusing. Both my Dad and my Mum could let out an absolute ripper of a trump in their prime, and the culture of our family was that you did it without shame. The implication was that you were in a safe place and could be yourself, as disgusting as you wanted, and you would be accepted for it.

Curiously, though, I was not allowed to say the word "fart" as a child. It was considered a swear word. To this day, I'm not entirely sure why, though I guess it occupies the same tier as "crap" where, in the appropriate circumstances, you can probably consider it a mild profanity. Instead, we would typically just use the word "flatulence", which, despite being the scientific, medical term for it, is a very funny word indeed. Occasionally, if we came across a particularly amusing euphemism for it either on television or in other media (such as in The Beano, which I read habitually as a child) and would make use of that, but "flatulence" is the one that stuck, and "fart" was verboten. (I am allowed to say "fart" these days, though I'm pretty sure my parents still don't use it much.)

School is a complicated time to determine your outlook on farting, because you are faced with a variety of mixed messages. Were you to let out a honking grunt in the middle of a quiet lesson, would everyone laugh, or would everyone consider it disgusting and shameworthy? At least part of it is down to the overall way that you are seen generally; if you're one of the cool kids, farting is hilarious, while if you're an unpopular person for one reason or another, farting is the height of shame — so much so that even the accusation of having farted, even if you hadn't done so, could earn you the ridicule and censure of your peers.

Such was the case within lessons, of course. At break and lunchtime, that was a different matter. I have strangely vivid memories of an occasion during my time at primary school where my best friend Matthew and I were trying out shoulderstands (which we'd recently learned for the first time in PE) and discovered that the contortions involved in performing a shoulderstand not only churn up your guts a bit, they also slacken your ringpiece in a way that is eminently suitable for ripping a chuffnut. Thus we spent quite some time attempting to discover the optimal position in which to achieve salty guffs almost on demand.

I'm primarily talking about farting here, but burps bear mentioning, too. Burps, to my recollection, never carried the same possibility of shame as farting, and instead they had a variety of social functions. Those who learned how to burp on command became comedy gods, and those who could summon up a thunderous belch from the very depths of Hell itself could make use of them in a strangely aggressive, dominant manner. Again, I think back to my schooldays, and a particularly vivid memory is standing waiting for the bus with the other people from my village, and my sometimes-friend Dale repeatedly letting out some of the most earth-shaking burps the world has ever heard, on at least one occasion causing the headmaster of our old primary school (who lived near where we waited for the bus) to come outside and ask him to please stop doing that.

Farts are a sign of acceptance in a friendship group, though. People you can fart in front of without shame are people you can call true friends. And, unsurprisingly, I have a lot of weirdly "special" memories of times spent farting with people who are important to me. Some of the most vivid involve my friend Woody, who I would often end up sharing a room with if we were sleeping over at our mutual friend Edd's house, since we both lived a fair distance away.

On various occasions, Woody summoned up "canned veg farts" (absolutely rancid-smelling guffs that were akin to opening a bin that hadn't been emptied for a month in terms of the poisonous atmosphere they created), "water farts" (repeated, loud parps that he swore could be attributed to the amount of water he had drunk that evening) and "Emperor farts" (honking trumps that were preceded by a quote from The Emperor in one of the original three Star Wars movies). There was also the evening of "Did You Hear What I Just Felt", where a particularly vigorous anal fanfare was followed up by the briefest, quietest sound, a little like what raw chicken sounds like if you pick it up. He had to go and check himself after that one.

In somewhat later years, one of my most memorable days working at the Apple Store was the day we had a detailed discussion in Back of House about what the absolute optimal conditions for farting were, and we collectively determined that it was sitting on a hard, wooden dining chair while naked and slightly damp. If you have never farted on a non-padded dining chair, I highly encourage you to try it. You might be surprised.

Of course, it's also an important moment in a relationship when one or the other of you decides that now is the time to start farting in front of each other. It goes back to family; being able to rip out a salty grunt in front of someone without embarrassment, shame or fear is a sign of trust. And the expression of this trust is often unspoken; you never, ever have a discussion about "well, I guess it's time we started guffing around each other". It just sort of happens. And that's lovely.

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